


The Old Lady On The Stairs

by Regan5045



Category: No Fandom
Genre: My Ghost Story, One of My Favorites, Originally Posted on Tumblr, ghost story, scary story, true story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regan5045/pseuds/Regan5045
Summary: Hi guys!! I hope you enjoyed the story! This is my first work on here, and I apologize that it did not come in chapters, but I am a little new here :). Let me know what you guys think! If you guys want more of my ghost stories, or have suggestions for other types of works, I am all ears :)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	The Old Lady On The Stairs

When I was younger we lived in this house that had one of the creepiest basements imaginable. It was essentially a single room in the shape of a square, and it was comprised completely of cement, other than the ceiling, which was made of the wood from the floor above. The only light in the room came from either two exposed lightbulbs, one at the forefront of the room and one further back, or the tiny windows that were so covered by grime and plants from outside that hardly any light could breakthrough. In this room, we had a very large desk reaching from floor to ceiling that separated the portion housing a couch from the portion which we used solely for storage. The desk had a computer and printer on it facing the couch side, and my siblings and I often played games down there alone. 

One day, as I was playing games on our boxy computer, I began to hear some strange noises from the storage side of the basement. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but as they continued, I finally got up to check and see what may be over there. Once I got to the threshold they stopped, and since I found nothing, I walked back to the desk and sat down to continue my feat. A few minutes later the noises started again, louder this time, and more driven by curiosity than anything, I went to check once more. When I arrived and the noises halted, I made sure to check everything this time, and annoyance began to blossom when there was nothing to be seen. I trotted back to the desk and, as soon as I sat down, they began again, louder than ever. I was a little angry at this point and rushed to check once more, but I was stopped in my tracks when I found someone staring back at me. 

I was frozen with fear and could do nothing but stare. Looming over me, floating about a foot off of the ground, and illuminated rather brilliantly in the pitch-black room, was an old lady with her face contorted in a look of pure rage. She had a high and rather perfect bun in her completely gray hair, and she was wearing slippers, a long white nightgown, and a robe. Her demeanor was rather intimidating, and all I could do was stare at her face, where her lips were moving as if she was speaking, but no sound was coming out of them. I escaped my frozen state long enough to run upstairs to my parents, and when I brought them down she had disappeared. As parents typically do, they said it was just my imagination and that nothing had happened, though I remember that I steered clear of the basement for weeks afterward. Over time as nothing else occurred, I started to believe that maybe it wasn’t real after all, but it was so vivid in my mind that I eventually deemed it a dream. That is until I retold the account to my parents many years later.

I told the story to my dad first, and I can still remember his exact words as they sent a chill down my spine. We were camping, sitting around the fire telling scary stories when I decided to tell this one. I was hesitant, as I had never really spoken of it until then, but what he told me threw all contempt out of the window. After I finished describing the appearance of the old woman he paused, seemed to contemplate for a second, and then looked me dead in the eye and said: “You just perfectly described my grandmother.”

As he continued, he divulged some facts that I had not previously known, which were that when he moved here from his hometown he had lived with said grandmother in that house. He told me that they did not get along, as she was always angry, and he described how she always wore pajamas, slippers, had her hair up in a neat bun, and never left the house. She died many years before I was born, and he was blown away at the fact that I described her so well. I didn’t know what to think upon hearing this information, and when I shared the story with my mom at a separate time, I was sure that my life was becoming some sort of scary movie. 

Upon finishing reciting the tale once more, my mother proceeded to give me an anecdote of her own from when I was a toddler. She said that when I was around three years old, I would always talk about the “old lady on the stairs.” She said that she would catch me talking to no one, and when she would ask who I was speaking with, I would calmly tell her about said old lady. She continued with a separate anecdote about a time when she was going through photo albums with me by her side. She said that upon flipping to one page, I pointed at a picture and said “That’s the old lady on the stairs! That’s the old lady on the stairs!” If you haven’t guessed by now, the picture was of my dad’s grandmother. 

Over the years this story continues to blow me away and is the sole reason that I believe there is life after death. I did not think to ask about that picture of my great-grandma until we had moved from that house and, coincidentally, the only one we had was destroyed in a flood in that very same basement, among very few other items, an occurrence that may be unrelated, but is all around still spooky.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!! I hope you enjoyed the story! This is my first work on here, and I apologize that it did not come in chapters, but I am a little new here :). Let me know what you guys think! If you guys want more of my ghost stories, or have suggestions for other types of works, I am all ears :)


End file.
